


I don't know why I'm moving, yet I do

by o0_Kiyomitsu_0o



Series: Times we met but didn't know [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Confused Winter Soldier, First Meetings, Gen, Hurt Winter Soldier, Hydra should burn for many things, Inaccurate description of construction work and architecture, Not too graphic but graphic enough I guess, Sleepy Tony Stark, Vague concept of comfort, Violence, Winter Soldier/Tony Stark if you want to read into it, Winter soldier-centric, WinterIron somehow, but not really, he really does, i still don't know how to tag, the asset in disguise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29756409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/o0_Kiyomitsu_0o/pseuds/o0_Kiyomitsu_0o
Summary: The asset is send to place a bomb at a construction site in Malibu.
Series: Times we met but didn't know [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2184354
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	I don't know why I'm moving, yet I do

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, thanks for your interest in reading my story (^w^)
> 
> Before you continue, please note that I'm neither an native English- nor an native Russian-speaker aaaand I didn't have a Beta-reader to sort through my mistakes, so please excuse my grammar and my spelling.
> 
> Translations at the end (I used an online-translator, please correct me if the internet betrayed me Ó.ò)
> 
> Even if it doesn't look like it I really love both character, I swear! At some point I want to see them happy.
> 
> If you notice anything, please let me know so I can correct it right away (n.n)

The asset’s muscles were still stiff and sore from cryo-sleep. The metal arm disabled for any use making it a dead-weight hanging from the assets body. Getting readied for a mission after waking up from the cold was like torture. No way to defend yourself or run if the need should arise, not that his handler, ah lanky, pale woman, would allow him to move without direct order. The cut on his cheek from his handler’s signet-ring he had gotten for stumbling forward to catch his balance an immediate reminder of that.

The assets vision was still sprinkled with black dots, his mind muddled and moving was nearly impossible, so they dragged him to the shower room. He was thrown into the corner of the tiled room before spraying him with scalding water until the skin on his back felt paper thin and ready to break at the slightest touch. It wouldn’t. If only because the asset wasn’t supposed to break, it wouldn’t. 

They threw him a bundle of clothing as well as a towel, before resuming their position at the door. The asset dried himself off, suppressing the wince when he passed a particular tender spot. Putting on the tactical gear with one hand was a bigger challenge. Closing the clasps with and fastening the belts with his metal arm disabled and useless took time, which he didn’t have. Keeping his handler waiting wasn’t going to make the next blow softer. The guards watched him struggle, the glee and amusement about seeing the asset flounder obvious.   
The moment the last buckle clicked shut the asset was pushed out and back into the main room where his handler was already drumming her blood-red nails impatiently on the metal desk she was leaning against. The cut, that was already beginning to heal got renewed before the asset could confirm his compliance. 

The dead body of a man hidden behind a pile of scrap looked vaguely like the asset. Brown hair, just a tad shorter than the assets. Broad shoulders and bulky muscles shaped by years of construction work. The asset removed the light grey overall from the man, pulling it over his own clothing. It was just wide enough so his gear and weaponry underneath were perfectly hidden. A white painters mask, thick working-gloves and the yellow helmet completed the cover. 

His mission was to infiltrate the building while still under construction and place a bomb in the center of the steel beams keeping the house stable at the cliffs. The asset wasn’t told a reason, and it wasn’t his place to question his handler’s orders, all needed to know was that he was to place the explosive so it wouldn’t be found, activate the sender and return immediately. 

The asset stood up, tugging the hair underneath the helmet and went towards the group of bored looking men that were waiting for the unmotivated foreman to distribute the tasks waiting ahead. None of them really noticed the asset joining them. While waiting for things to proceed he used the time to survey his surroundings once again. They were standing at the far side of a walk way leading towards the gate of the construction side on a cliff, how it was holding on to the steep stonewall was something beyond his needed understanding. 

With a sudden hum the metal gate opened, causing the asset to automatically go into a defensive stance. He nearly broke the hand of the man who wanted to give his thought colleague a clap on the back. ‘Wow, someone’s a bit jumpy today.’ The burly man shook his hand in mild anger before turning around, following the rest of the group already walking inside. The asset straightened up, forcing himself to relax again. He couldn’t compromise the mission. 

The foreman waved at them, barking out their workstations for the day. Some complaining to each other about the unfinished tasks, but most of them disappeared into half-finished house in silence. It was something the asset wasn’t allowed. Unfinished tasks were seen as failure and failure would be severely punished. The thought had the already closed cut on his cheek itching. His handler wouldn’t accept failure. 

Pictures of the metal chair and the whir of electricity had the asset still in his tracks. A wave of uncontrollable fear paralyzing him. He didn’t want to be punished. He had to get the mission done and return to his handler without delay. He clenched his fist, causing the metal arm to recalibrate. A reassuring sound calling him back to the present. 

With determined struts he crossed the room to get down into the first half-finished basement, that wasn’t really a basement since the whole building was half hanging in the air. Even in its unfinished state it looked like a garage with the wide ramp leading to the surface. The asset eyed the deserted room until he spotted the triple steel beam construction stabilizing the ceiling, which the handler had shown him on the blueprint. 

The asset unzipped the overall far enough to grab the small deceive, that would pull the house down and kill its inhabitants in the process. Getting the bomb in place and setting a timer was like second nature to the asset, but just in case someone saw him he tried to make it look like a regular construction worker doing regular construction work, pretending to check on some screws and nuts.

Just as the asset was about to finish his charade and activate the deceive a young man with disheveled brow hair walked in, causing the asset to still. He was probably in his mid-twenties. Eyes sunk in, bags underneath, malnourished, if the overly baggy shirt and jogging trainers were any indicator. No threat for the asset. Easy to get rid of should the need arise but right now the man was just shuffling through the empty hall not even noticing the asset doing his would-be work. Something about the brown mop of hair struck the asset as familiar, but he dismissed it, instead focusing on get things done., so he could get back immediately.

The asset was about to activate the radio signal, that would connect with Hydras base, when the silence of the large hall was suddenly cut through by a loud crash and a pained grunt. 

The tiered man had seemingly walked into a pile of pipes that had been standing next to the exit and had gotten buried underneath them as they had tipped over. Before the asset really realized it, he had jumped down and was lifting the heavy steel off the unconscious body. Why was the asset doing this? 

The mission was to place the bomb and get out unseen. People coming down to check on the noise, could compromise the mission by discovering the man and searching the surrounding for other unsecured parts, the asset tried to rationalize his behavior as he lifted the last pipe back into place.

The young man was still lying motionless on the floor. The asset had sufficient knowledge of the human body, primarily of its weak spots, which could gain the vital advantage during combat, but enough so he could check the limp figures frail body for pulse, breath and any external injury.

A bump was already forming on the back of the head as well as some bruises on the young man’s bony shoulder blades. The breathing was shallow but steady, the pulse low but not in a life-threatening pace. The knowledge let the asset relax his shoulders he didn’t know had tensed. Neither did he notice his own heartbeats staccato beginning to calm down. 

Maybe there was a malfunction in his system causing the accelerated heart-rate. There was no other way to explain the sudden hitch in the asset’s breath, when the man lying on the floor stirred with a pained groan. 

The asset knew he should leave immediately, but there was something about that kept him from getting the connection of the bomb started and leave the scene. Something about the soft features scrunched in pain. It was familiar but still somehow different, where had he seen that man before? 

When nothing came to his mind the asset gathered the limp body in his arms instead, to get him into a busier area of the construction site, which the asset had avoided so far. The asset spotted a storage room for all kinds of material, surely someone would come by eventually and find the unconscious man. 

Heading towards it the lithe body in his hold began to squirm and turn until the young brunet could press his face closer into the assets shoulder. Something warm rushed through the assets body, seeing the frail human curling closer into himself. The asset automatically readjusted his hold, something about the hold familiar in a way the asset couldn’t understand. 

He shook his head as if it could chase away the vague outlines of memories, hazing the assets mind. Determined to ignore the dizzying feeling the asset set down the softly breathing man on carefully stacked cement bags. The asset stilled, hearkening for movements outside followed by barked out requests for refills of this and that. The asset looked back towards the softly heaving man. It shouldn’t take to long for someone to find him here. 

With a final gaze at the young man’s face, that was surprisingly hard to look away from, the asset turned around to leave, when a loose grip on the overalls leg halted his movement. Not the physical force of the hold, it was by far to weak for the asset to not have broken free from, but rather the eerie familiarity of the scene. What was it with this boy that he couldn’t just shake him off?

The asset watched the shaking hand trying to keep its grip on the overall’s rough fabric for a moment, before glancing over the hidden metal shoulder to where he had placed the man. The young brunet hadn’t moved except for the hand on the assets leg. The long black lashes fanning over too prominent cheekbones were starting to dampen. 

‘Don’ lea’me p’lea...’ the closed eye figure slurred before the grip weakened and the arm fell limp to the makeshift beds side. The asset was stunned. Why would someone want him to stay if not for a mission? Why did those words sound so familiar? Had a handler used them before? Unlikely. No handler had a need to ask the asset, let alone plead to do as told. He was a tool to be used after all and yet. The voice, the way the man had relaxed into the asset’s arms, even slurred the words made the asset let something warm light up within his chest. 

He placed the dangling arm into a less strenuous position, brushing the gloved hand through matted curls. ‘Не бойся. Они найдут вас, и вы будете не одни.’ The asset mumbled before he heard heavy working boots approach the storage room. 

The quickest getaway was over the incomplete fire escape. He jumped down the last storey. He didn’t have to run fast. The van with three Hydra agents and his handler was waiting on the assigned meeting point five miles south the mansion. The demanded mission report was followed by a long pause. His handler sitting on a makeshift server-station in the van to test the connection of the explosive. Only it didn’t connect. 

The cold smile on his handler’s face let the assets stomach twist in nausea. ‘Mission report.’ The asset swallowed around the pile of bile rising up his throat. He didn’t activate the detonator. He failed his mission. Failure was unacceptable. He knew what was about to follow. His handler stood up, crossing the two steps so she was standing in arms reach. ‘Asset, Mission report.’ Her voice calm but her eyes blazing with fury. 

An electric shock hitting the asset into his side forced him to his knees. He struggled to catch his breath. ‘незавершенный’ The moment the word was spoken out loud the asset felt the searing pain of another hard backhand colliding with his face. ‘We need to get back to the base.’ 

The asset knew the punishment would be severe, so he tried to focus on the young man’s soft resting face, the warm body snuggling into his hold, hoping he could keep those memories. 

His handler reported the failure and the asset was dragged away into a bare room, where agents with batons and teasers were already waiting. He was thrown to the floor, metal arm disabled, body still numb from the last shocks, that had been meant to paralyse him during the transport. 

The asset didn’t know how long he was beaten and shocked before the other men left the room. He was limply lying on the ground. His body was close to giving out. Broken bones and angry bruises that were slowly starting to heal already making every movement unbearably painful. The asset tried to curl into himself, not daring to let out a sound when the pain flared up again. He didn’t want to risk them coming back, so he pressed his eyes shut, concentrating on sleepy brown eyes and chestnut brown curls as the remaining consciousness slipped and the asset was falling into a cold, black void.

**Author's Note:**

> Не бойся. Они найдут вас, и вы будете не одни : Do not be afraid. They will find you and you won't be alone.
> 
> незавершенный : incomplete
> 
> Thank you for reading until the end (n-n)


End file.
